I got up early this morning to watch the Pope's address on the White House lawn.
I am excited about the Pope’s visit. I have to admit it, he has occupied his office in a way that I value, and so in coming to America I am interested in what he is going to say and how he is going to spark conversation and bring the idea of faith to the forefront of our national dialogue. I have to say I don’t agree with the Pope though - on many things. I don’t agree with his views on women in authority, his views on sexuality, his views on the family. I do agree with him on many things, like climate change and the fact that our economic choices have a moral dimension to them that cannot be ignored. I don’t know what he thinks on some other issues. I am pretty sure he has a catholic view on abortion or euthenasia, but I have not heard him speak on that subject… not that he hasn’t, I just haven’t heard him speak on those subjects so I don’t know exactly what he thinks. I am willing to listen though. I think I am willing to listen because he says that he wants to start by listening to us, and I believe him. He has not just said it, but has assumed a posture of listening. As Pope it could be assumed that he speaks and we listen, but this Pope has not adopted that model. Some have accused him of just being interested in public relations - that he is changing tone not substance. I am pretty sure his core views on homosexuality have not changed, and being a Gay priest with a partner who was raised Roman Catholic I wish they would, but that does not mean I am unwilling to listen to him. We have to be wary of the desire to rule someone out in any dialogue because they do not fully share our views. We will only grow as a country and a world if we are willing to do the hard work of dialogue. Dialogue does not start with speaking, it starts with listening. It starts with abandoning our assumptions of the other and being open to who they are. I like this Pope because he shares some of my views, I am wary of him because he does not share others, I am open to him because he does not rely on the authority of his office, but is willing to be open to others with integrity and sensitivity. As a man who also occupies a public role I am inspired by the way he occupies his - with all its limitations and expectations. I like that he breaks rules and errs on the side of compassion. I like that he breaks into the crowd and calls people up on the telephone to tell them he is praying for them. I like that he listens. I am going to try listening more. Love Matthew+
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Regan O’Callaghan wrote this Icon (it is said that you ‘write’ an Icon – you don’t ‘paint’ it) he is a close friend of mine, an artist and a priest in the church of England. The subject is Lucy Winkett, the Rector of St James’ Piccadilly. The Icon was a gift to Lucy from a school where she served as Governor.
The Icon is in line with many Icons that Regan has written. He believes in representing the ‘sainthood’ of all believers by painting living Christians with the same care and honor that you would reserve for painting a saint. There are many such wonderful images of ordinary holiness on his web site. In this image many of his common themes are present. The ‘sainthood’ of all believers is captured by the choice of subject herself: Lucy. Her robes contain a Koru – the coil which is representative of the fern from Regan’s native New Zealand, and a sign of the renewal of creation and creativity itself. She is dressed as a priest, and is blessing the watcher, and her face is open and beaming with the smile of a community leader, but then there is the imposing bird on her other arm which strikes a different note. It is an Eagle, Lucy’s favorite bird, and it is majestic in its posture. In Christian mythology the Eagle is also the symbol of John’s Gospel, because it was said that John’s Gospel gives you an Eagle eyed view of the life of Jesus, and because the Eagle has such good eyesight and John’s Gospel helps us to see Jesus more clearly. The Eagle is perched on her left arm, and if you look closely enough its talons are drawing blood. This introduces some more complex themes into the piece. Initially it suggested to me that the preaching of the Gospel can draw blood: at least if done right! In speaking to Regan he told me that the blood represents the wounds of life, and I reflected back that life itself, if well lived, can be both costly, and also a sermon. I love this painting, it is painted of a colleague by a good friend, and it also speaks volumes about the nature of the vocation to priesthood, and also to just being a Christian. Does living the gospel sometimes cause you pain? Does living with integrity and truth feel like a challenge? Where are your sources of creativity and renewal? Are you smiling to the crowd, but also feeling pain that cannot be seen very clearly? Is there hope in your gestures? Take a moment to contemplate this contemporary Icon. What would Regan paint in your Icon? Love Matthew+ www.reganocallaghan.com I woke up on Monday the 31st August, backsore, still tired, hungry and with the sound of rain hitting the tent bringing me down. “What was I thinking” I asked myself as I wrestled with the crumpled clothes to get dressed so that I might find a portable rest room. I got out of the tent knowing I would probably have to stand in line in the rain. I was already thinking about having to pack up the tent in the pouring rain before heading to the last part of vacation and my aches and pains turned into a full on grump… Martín laughed at me as I apparently said: lets get out of this godforsaken place.
Going to Greenbelt had been the cornerstone of my vacation plan. A festival of arts, faith and justice in the English countryside that is held every year over the last weekend in August (the English “Bank Holiday Weekend” - like our Laborday but a week earlier). Martín decided to come with me, rather than stay with friends in London, and we agreed to camp. I was convinced it was going to be an adventure and part of the rich experience of the long weekend. It was for two full days… until it started raining. We got there, after a whirlwind tour of London, Porstmouth and Seaford (to see friends, family and be tourists), got our festival programs and found a place to set up our tent. I was overjoyed when I realized what the theme for the weekend was. I had read the title on the web site of course, but I had not connected it to its source material. The weekend was entitled: "This Bright Field” It is the title of a poem by RS Thomas, one of my favorite poets of the 20th Century, a welsh priest who was grumpy and irascible but managed to capture moments of sublime beauty in amongst the harshness of life: This Bright Field By RS Thomas I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for a while, and gone my way and forgotten it. But that was the pearl of great price, the one field that had treasure in it. I realise now that I must give all that I have to possess it. Life is not hurrying on to a receding future, nor hankering after an imagined past. It is the turning aside like Moses to the miracle of the lit bush, to a brightness that seemed as transitory as your youth once, but is the eternity that awaits you. I read the poem, a particular favorite, and it made complete sense that I was here. I had been rushing through a program year that was really quite full of transitions and challenges at Transfig and I was tired, possibly exhausted. So when I decided to go to Greenbelt I must have subconsciously been wanting to slow down and experience the kind of moment of insight that Thomas describes. I am grateful to John Tornquist and Matt Longnecker for understanding that and for helping me make the trip possible. So here we were, in a field, contemplating the beauty of creation in the grounds of an English country house. The weekend unfolded with drama, art, worship and thoughtful talks. At some points it almost seemed overwhelming as there was so much to process, but I also met with old friends and made new ones and had an experience that people often describe in relation to Greenbelt, which was being able to talk through what was happening each night with other festival goers at the greenbelt ‘pub’ - which was really just a tent with a bar. Those conversations fed me and helped me sort out what I was feeling about my experience of the festival. I caught up with Peterson Toscano, an old friend who was performing at Greenbelt, Louis Darrant another old friend and a priest in the Church of England, my English Colleague group and new friends including Ben and Rich (who had met and started a romance at Greenbelt ten years earlier and were still coming back years later, now married). The bright field really was a time to turn aside from the hurry of life and take time to be in the present. Being in the present can be challenging though. All kinds of feelings surface when you slow down and pay attention. I have alluded to it already but I have to admit to the last year has been tough. It has been tough due to some of my own longstanding underlying emotional and spiritual topography, and there was also the transitions in parish life at Transfig. Past history and present tiredness combined with my existential questions as I sat on the grass and listened to John Bell talking about the darkness in the Psalms. I realized back in June that I had needed a moment to pause and look at both my life and God’s bright field from a new perspective, so I had decided to open up some space to think and pray, take proper time off and reflect on where I was. Before I went the Vestry and I talked creatively and and I also talked to my Spiritual Advisor, then on my vacation I had some good conversations with my partner, my family and friends. Now here I was, in the moment of reflection, thinking about darkness and the bright presence of God in this strange context in a field. What did I find? Well, firstly I found that when you go away to a camp site in England over the August Bank Holiday weekend it may be sunny for a while but it will inevitably rain eventually. I found that rain and mud and sleeping on the ground could be uncomfortable and make me grumpy. And of course I found that experiences of spiritual searching include dark challenges as much as bright insights. But I also realized that a loving God is moving in my life and in our world. I remembered that I am a beloved child of that loving God. I am part of a community at Transfiguration where people wrestle daily with symptoms of burn out and exhaustion but it is also a community that has depth, compassion and vision in abundance. I realize I face darkness in my own life and in ministry, but in facing it I find in it shoots of new growth and hope right there in the darkness. I know I can step out into my day and my calling with joy, hope and courage. I realized that spiritual growth is only achieved when darkness is confronted. So basically, I realized that the bright field and the muddy field are one and the same, and that I need both to grow. Love Matthew+ God is Love; and love enfolds us, all the world in one embrace:
with unfailing grasp God holds us, every child of every race. And when human hearts are breaking under sorrow’s iron rod, then we find that self same aching deep within the heart of God. Timothy Rees, the author of these lyrics, was a monk, Anglican bishop (appointed to serve the See of Llandaff in 1931) and a popular writer of hymns. This is a hymn I have probably sung a thousand times, but last Sunday, when our Director of Music, Eric was playing, and we were all joined in singing, the second verse really grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. It is as good a summary of my theology as I have ever seen. It is funny how something so familiar can grab your attention in a new way. Over the years I have worked more and more at my own core ideas about the christian faith. Here they all are, written up in meter and set to music. Firstly, God is love: that springs right from 1 John 4, my favorite passage of scripture, and the verse goes on: "love enfolds us.” And love does not just enfold us, but the "whole world", including "every child of every race.” This love is not exclusive, it is for all people, whether I like them or not, whether I agree with them or not, whether they are different from me or not. In the middle of that image of inclusivity there is another essential idea: that the loving grasp of God is unfailing. Many people let us down on a daily basis, but the Love of God does not let us go. The hymn does not just stay with these simple and easy ideas about indefatigable inclusive Love. It remembers that life is not all sunshine and roses. When our hearts are breaking, when we face darkness, or some crisis, we can be assured that God is present in our suffering - feeling what we feel - empathizing - because he knew heartbreak when, in his life on earth, he was rejected, persecuted and killed. God entered into our lives through his son, so that we might enter into the life of God and find there an understanding heart. Thank you for your music choices Eric - thank you for your words Tim. Thank you all for being a loving community at Transfig. Love Matthew+ What does it mean to you to be well? Does it mean your body is healthy? That you are experiencing no symptoms of illness?
Many of our notions of health revolve around this idea. For much of the 20th century, as we moved towards ever more technical proficiency in the field of medicine, we have also narrowed our definitions of health. Health became that which we could treat physically through medical science. It became about curing diseases and alleviating symptoms. So that had an impact on the way in which we felt prayers for healing should function in church. This has caused confusion. Fueled by some branches of Christianity that do practice 'healing prayer' as a kind of magical means to alleviate symptoms, we have a sense that what we should expect is a cessation of physical infirmity after we have participated in healing prayers, and if we don't, then something has gone wrong. But as I have already said, I think this definition of health is too narrow. When I was looking for more expansive definitions I found this in the preamble to the constitution of WHO - the World Health Organization: Health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.* I love this definition. It is expansive, it has room in it for a variety of disciplines to be included as part of the healing arts and it reminds us that we are not just our bodies and our health is not just about symptoms. We are physical, mental and social. Health has to do with communities, economics, science, therapy... And faith. The only thing missing from the wonderful WHO definition of health is 'spiritual'. I don't blame them, but for me this would be the perfect definition of health: Health is a state of complete physical, mental, social and spiritual well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity. In this sense, everything we do at church is intended to encourage health. But once a month we offer particular prayers for healing. These prayers take place in the side chapel, and include powerful Christian symbols, such as anointing with oil and laying on of hands. We pray for the whole person, and their community - loved ones who are also struggling. We pray for spiritual strength in the face of adversity, we pray for healing and wholeness. We believe that God answers every single prayer, but the method of her answer may be different each time, and may or may not include the relief of symptoms. Personally I have received healing prayer every time it has been offered. I never tell the person praying what I am asking for, as I believe God knows - but I am always amazed at the way the gentle and respectful prayers of the healing team lift my spirits and bring a sense of the presence of God to me more closely. Come for prayers today, and know that you are loved by God and by your community. Love, Matthew+ *Preamble to the Constitution of the World Health Organization as adopted by the International Health Conference, New York, 19-22 June, 1946; signed on 22 July 1946 by the representatives of 61 States (Official Records of the World Health Organization, no. 2, p. 100) and entered into force on 7 April 1948. The Definition has not been amended since 1948. It is our name day today – a day full of the divine vision of Jesus on the mountainside surrounded by prophets and humoring his sleepy disciples. But as I was preparing on Monday for today, reading the text and beginning to think about it, one thing jumped out at me.
Before we get to the amazing vision the gospel writer takes time to tell us that Jesus went up on a mountainside to pray… again. There are about 7 instances in the Gospels when Jesus goes up on a mountainside to pray. Sometimes he goes alone, sometimes he takes his disciples with him. This seems to be his habit, and in today’s Gospel reading he seems to be trying to pass the habit on to his disciples. They are not very good at sticking with him in these moments. They fall asleep as they usually do. They will do so again on his final night of prayer on a mountainside in the garden of gethsemane, the night before he is killed. I wonder about what the disciples thought as he took them to the mountainside? “Oh, here we go again, another night of boredom sitting quietly and looking at the sky.” They kept on falling asleep, but didn’t understand that this was the space in which Jesus regenerated his spiritual energy and mission focus. Perhaps they didn’t quite realize that they needed this also. On this occasion though, the silence of his prayer is interrupted by a corporate vision. They all see it, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. Perhaps, for a moment, the inner world of Jesus, and his experience on these night time mountainside prayer sessions, can be seen by everyone around him. Perhaps, for a moment, they are able to enter into his inner world. It is transforming. Where is your mountainside? Where do you pray? Why not come and join me in two weeks at Bishop’s Ranch and see what we see together in prayer? Love Matthew+ Martín gave me a book of quotes on Sunday, because he knows I love quotes, and the day before I had seen one I particularly liked in the wine country.
I randomly opened the book and saw this quote from Aristotle, the Greek philosopher, from his Nicomachean Ethics: “Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.” It took me a moment to absorb the message, and then I realized that it was something I really agree with. Our culture often tells us that anger itself is bad, and modern psychology has countered that it is an important and useful emotion. So we are now taught to express our anger when we might previously have suppressed it. The trouble is we are not very practiced at it (probably because of all that suppression), so we overcompensate and blow up with bad timing, at the wrong person, for the wrong reasons. This doesn’t mean we should avoid anger - it just means that we should understand it better. Aristotle is expressing what Inside Out (the new movie from Pixar that I love) might say: anger is one of our emotions; it is useful in the right place and time. I hear you saying, but aren’t we meant to love and not hate? To which my answer is: what has anger got to do with hate? Anger, rightly employed, can be a manifestation of the deepest commitment to a cause or a person. Sometimes anger is exactly the right response to a situation, and no other response will do. In her book, The Alphabet of Avoidance, Lisa Borden says: “If you aren’t outraged, then you just aren’t paying attention.” So reflect on how you employ anger. Think about Aristotle, and Inside Out, and Lisa’s aphorism. Anger can be a good thing: it releases energy, it motivates, and it helps to make the world a more just place. Oh, and if you were wondering what the quote I saw and loved in the wine country was, it comes from Winston Churchill – source of many of the best quotes of the 20th Century: “Remember gentlemen, it’s not just France we are fighting for, it’s Champagne.” Love, Matthew+ The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven...
So speaks the greatest anti-hero in all literature, Satan, in Milton's wonderful epic poem, Paradise Lost. He says this after he and his followers have been cast out of heaven and realize they have to rebuild a life in hell. It was a classic modernist perspective: that by an act of imagination we can perceive terrible circumstances to be wonderful, and then by force of will make them so. I reflected on how right Milton was - that our perspective on our circumstances does have a powerful impact on how we inhabit them. I also reflected on how wrong Milton was - in that he perpetuated a mind body separation that has been prevalent throughout much Christian history and theology. The mind is not its own place, divorced from the physical surroundings that it occupies - it resides in a body, and the body is affected by the environment. This is why I feel like the world is a better place after I go for a five mile run on Bair island. Children raised with low expectations, bad nutrition and in an environment of poverty have their life chances curtailed. Tragically, only rare exceptions escape the poverty trap. The American dream, that we can transform our circumstances by force of will, is often a fantasy. So I am left with these reflections. The body and the mind exist in a continuum and both affect each other. My prayer life must be somatic (by this I mean physical and not just in my head - walking while praying, or running are great). The environment affects us greatly, and it affects others as well; so, as those blessed with gifts of intellect, spirituality, economy and influence it is important that we are mindful of the needs of others, and how we can help all to reach their fullest potential. Love, Matthew+ |
Matthew WoodwardFrom the UK, Matthew loved US culture from the first time he picked up a Fantastic Four Comic when he was 12. Archives
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